


The New Tenant

by orphan_account



Series: Through all of Time [7]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-04
Updated: 2011-11-04
Packaged: 2017-10-25 17:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Think Mr Darcy ... double it, now go and lie down in a darkened room til you feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Tenant

Part 1

 

As I ushered my new tenant into Mrs Gordon’s drawing room, the parlour maid bobbed a curtsey and announced

 

“Squire Lewis and Mr James Hathaway, Ma’am,” then stood aside to let us enter.

 

Mrs Gordon was too genteel to gasp but I could feel her thinking that it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife …and it was evident that Mr. Hathaway was possessed of a very good fortune indeed. His attire was of the latest fashion sported in Bath, from whence he had recently come to the country for the good of his health.

 

I privately reflected that it was also a truth universally acknowledged that a man of such exceptional good looks who is still unwed at the age of 32 is in no way in need of a wife.

 

Mrs. Gordon held out a hand and Mr Hathaway bowed low over it with a very courteous

 

“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Mrs Gordon” in well-modulated, cultured tones.

 

“May Hi mek so bold as to present me daughter, Sir?” Her common origins were still evident every time that Mrs. Gordon spoke.

 

Miss Betty Gordon, a very large, graceless girl with a slight squint, heaved herself from her armchair and thrust out her hand. Mr Hathaway’s greeting to her was no less grave and polite than that which he had offered to her mother.

 

“Your servant, Ma’am.”

 

“Charmed, I’m sure.”

 

I winced and in my own turn greeted the ladies. Once seated, we were served tea from fine china, which we balanced on our knees, which in the case of Mr. Hathaway proved precarious, his legs being of a most extraordinary length and the chairs being exceptionally small.

 

“Ham ay to hunderstand that you are newly come to the Hoxfordshire region, Sir?” Mrs. Gordon was making conversation; she well knew this because I had informed her, or she would not have been able to invite us both, for me to present my new tenant at the Lodge, as is the custom in polite society.

 

“I am indeed, Ma’am. On medical advice I have quit the noxious humours of Bath where I had gone take the waters. I am advised that a spell in the country will be of great benefit to my health.”

 

“You do not strike me as sickly,” Betty blurted out, her social graces almost as flawed as her figure.

 

“A mere trifle, I thank you, but to be treated with fresh country air.”

 

“Ay ham sure that my daughter would be delighted to hundertake a visit with you to make you haquainted with the area. Squire Lewis, would you take more tea?”

 

I refused and cast a furtive glance to see how the other guest would react to this proposition. His dandy manners did not desert him.

 

“I cannot imagine anything more pleasant, Ma’am. I understand there is fine hunting in this part of the country and I am eager to investigate the draws and covers here.”

 

Betty’s plump face fell and she chewed furiously on a pastry.

 

“If it is hunting you’re after, Sir, then I’m your man,” I offered. “If you have no mounts of your own you are most welcome to come and choose a hunter of mine. We could ride out tomorrow if you have no other engagements.”

 

“Why, thank ‘ee Sir, that is most uncommon generous of you. I should be delighted.” He drew a lace handkerchief from his cuff and waved it to express his delight … he actually waved it at me! Beau Brummel himself could not be more perfectly the fop.

 

The atmosphere in the drawing room had chilled noticeably, so I made our excuses and we withdrew. In the hallway, retrieving our cloaks and cocked hats from a maid we arranged that Mr. Hathaway would walk up to the Hall the next morning and we would ride out together.

 

Part 2

 

Dandy or not, Mr. Hathaway was a fine judge of horseflesh. The morning was a fine late summer one, the mist just lifting and the sun a ball of orange low in the sky as we trotted down the main driveway from the Hall, past the Lodge and on to the fields beyond.

 

It is also a truth universally acknowledged that two men, in any situation whatsoever, will eventually become competitive. Given that we are both sportsmen and out on two of the finest beasts in the county, although it is immodest of me to say so, it was, undoubtedly inevitable that we should race.

 

There also seemed to be a fore-doomed inevitability in the fact that my horse put a foot in a rabbit hole and tripped, throwing me violently over his neck. I cart-wheeled in the air and landed on my back, badly winding myself and taking a blow to the head, from which I momentarily fainted.

 

I came to my senses with Mr. Hathaway cradling me on his knees, passing a bottle of smelling salts under my nose and saying

“Squire Lewis, Squire Lewis, are you quite well, Sir?”

 

I groaned and tried to raise myself but a strong hand forced me back, my head against his belly as he loosened my neck-cloth and shirt to allow me to breathe.

 

“No, Sir, do not attempt to rise yet. You have knocked the wind clear out of yourself.” His voice had altered strangely. Gone, the foppish, mannered tones and instead he sounded almost military in his commanding style. I lay back and struggled for breath as he massaged my chest and I will admit to a feeling of great warmth towards this stranger. Under his capable hands I was soon restored to myself and he helped me to my feet, gently brushing the mud from my back.

 

“Your senses failed you, Squire Lewis, which is a dangerous sign and could have consequences; therefore I will take you to the Lodge where my servant will tend to your head. He is very skilled in the herbalist’s arts.

 

Against my protests, he helped me up on my horse and then walked beside me leading both the beasts in the event that I might fall again. I was most unconscionably grateful for his ministrations because, truth to tell, my poor head was spinning and I felt sick to my stomach.

 

Arriving at the Lodge, once the ostler had taken our mounts, Mr. Hathaway called for his manservant and to my surprise spoke to him in rapid French. I began to fear for my life. Was this urbane, charming neighbour actually a spy? In France a bloody revolution had broken out and landowners such as I were being be-headed in public squares.

 

“Be calm, Sir. Come inside and allow Stephan to tend your wound.” I had not realised that my head was bleeding so I was gently lead indoors and down the stone-flagged passageway to the kitchen where Mr. Hathaway seated me by the table. His manservant fetched water and began to minister to my sore head.

 

My tenant, entirely at his ease, leaned against the table, his long legs crossed, and his arms folded but he jumped up startled when a very large gentleman entered the kitchen. He executed a low bow, but with no flourishes or waving of handkerchiefs.

 

“Votre majesté,” he said quietly and then with great deference spoke again in French which I didn’t understand. I began to think that the blow to my head must have mazed my senses completely. They appeared to be arguing but Mr. Hathaway, while continuing to be very respectful was insistent and eventually the large gentleman shrugged and left the room.

 

My tenant sighed and pressed his palms together in front of his face for a moment and then he turned to me, bending down to fix my gaze with his own.

“Squire Lewis, I am obliged to ask your indulgence. You did not see that person. This is a matter of great importance; indeed I might say the safety of our nation may depend on it. May I rely on your discretion, Sir?”

 

“The king of France?” I whispered, hardly believing my own eyes.

 

“Indeed, Sir, the very same. Despite appearances to the contrary, which as you may imagine I have been at some pains to cultivate, I am in fact an agent of the Crown and as such I have managed to secure the passage to safety of the Royal family. Devoted followers have taken their place and will die in their stead. So you will understand, Squire Lewis, that I am not only putting their lives, but my own, in your hands. Should you reveal their presence here, we are all undone.”

 

Ignoring my pounding head I leapt to my feet and embraced Mr. Hathaway warmly

“My dear Sir – not a word of this will escape my lips, on that you have my word as a gentleman.”

 

My new friend sighed deeply, turning in my embrace to place his cheek against mine and again I felt that flush of affection towards him.

 

As you may imagine, dear reader, it was a long and deep friendship that started that day between Mr. Hathaway and your humble author.


End file.
